Dean probably should have known better than to open a curse box in the storage room of the bunker. Not just probably. He knew better than to open a curse box. But he also knew better than to mix pain killers and Jack Daniels, but there he was. Drunk and loopy, and kind of lost. There was part of him that knew that the hall he was in did not lead to his bedroom, but he was also pretty sure that it curved back around to the library. He'd been wrong before.

But there he was, a curse box in his hands. It was etched with symbols that probably said something along the lines of, "Don't open this goddamn box, idiot!" but he couldn't read them. So he grabbed the lid and dramatically annunciated, "Klaatu Verata Nikto!" and opened the box.

That was when he felt it, a sudden motion like being on a merry go round going way too fast. Colors bled together and sounds turned to crackling fog. Then all the motion and light and colors disappeared, and Dean was laying on his back looking up at the stars.

The sky was bright and clear, without a cloud in sight. He could see stars and comets and galaxies, everything spinning and swirling in colors that he could almost feel as easily as see. The colors tasted sweet on his tongue, and he wondered for only a moment why he could taste colors. He was too happy to question any of it. He couldn't find the words, and every time he opened his mouth, the only thing that came out was music and more colors.

"Beautiful," he sang, the word painting the sky with black feathers and blue eyes. He smiled, and said, "Castiel." The name looked like sunshine and meadows and tasted like peanut butter.

A sound entered his head, a high sound like radio static and feedback, but rather than being painful or abrasive, the sound was soothing like a caress against his skin. He recognized the voice as Castiel's, though it sounded nothing like the rough deep tone he normally associated with the angel. The voice was calling his name, and the echoes painted the air with hues of emerald and sand.

"Where are you, Cas?" Dean asked, still lying on the ground. Or at least, he was pretty sure he was laying down. Either way, the sky was always above him and all around, no matter which way he turned.

That was when he saw the creature. It was impossibly huge, a towering figure made of cloud and mist and stars. The closer it came, the more massive it appeared, and Dean began to taste fear. It colored the air around him in alien colors that he couldn't name, and he turned to run away. Except he couldn't run. He couldn't turn, either. No matter which way he moved his body, he was still facing the creature.

As it neared, Dean could see its wings. They looked like segments of the void of space, dusted with stars. Stars and eyes. There were so many eyes. Eyes on the wings, arms, legs, and its many faces. The faces were a blur and swirl, morphing from something vaguely human to something animalistic, to something that Dean could not define. And all those eyes, so many eyes, were crystalline blue like arctic ice, all fixed on him.

Never had Dean felt more tiny and insignificant than he did looking up at the towering presence of this being. He wanted to shout for help, but he couldn't speak. He could only stare at the awesome presence and listen to the static voice that sang and colored the air with his name. Dean.

The being knelt down, its massive hand lowering in front of Dean, sweeping away stars and fear from the air as recognition came to Dean.

"C-Cas?" he stammered, looking at the blue eyes that shined with the light of a universe.

The being's head nodded, and the static painted a new thought for Dean. Don't be afraid.

Dean reached out and for the first time saw his own hand. His body didn't look like his body. Or maybe it looked like his body from before he was ever born, though he couldn't quite reconcile why such a thing would cross his mind. His skin was a shimmering, wispy blue, like blue fire and white smoke.

It's okay, Dean. I'm here. The static warmed Dean. Caressed him.

Dean stepped into the hand of the being, and its fingers wrapped around him, lifting him gently as if he were a dandelion to be protected from the wind. He watched with awe as the being's face settled into a facsimile of Castiel's appearance, though still with too many eyes, but eyes so blue Dean felt like he could drown in them.

Reaching out with his hands of blue fire, Dean touched the angel's face and he asked, "Is this you? What you really look like?"

Yes, came the answer. It echoed through the stars, and Dean could feel it down inside his atoms. Do not be afraid.

"I bet you say that to all the humans," Dean said, chuckling at his own joke and filling the air between them with magenta and indigo and the flavor of warm cinnamon and honey. Then a darkness came out of his mouth as he asked, "Am I dead?"

No, Castiel answered. A smile curled the lips of his distorted face, all of his eyes lighting bright like supernovas as he said, Your soul has always been the most beautiful thing in creation.

Then there was a rushing sensation, and Dean shivered at the feel of Castiel's massive hands wrapping around him, his mind playing out a moment from long ago. Something he never remembered before, or maybe something he'd blocked out of his mind. Massive hands reaching down and scooping him up, out of the ash and fire and raising him higher and higher in a rush of wings and blinding beauty. Castiel, who raised him from Hell and held him like something precious even when he didn't deserve to be saved.


Dean's eyes snapped open and he shot up in bed with a pounding heart and the taste of ozone on his tongue. And there was a hand on his chest. A hand attached to a very human, very concerned looking Castiel. The hand moved from his chest to cup Dean's cheek.

"Are you alright?" Cas asked.

Dean nodded, unable to speak. Barely able to breathe.

Cas frowned. "Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean breathed. "I… Yeah."

"You opened a curse box," Sam said from across the room. "Kind of a nasty one, too. Your soul was sucked into a sub-dimension." The giant smirked, and said, "Lucky for you, Cas knew how to get you back."

Dean tried to form words, but the only thing he could think of was, "I could taste all the colors."

Sam snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, glad you had a nice trip. Stay out of the storage room when you're wasted, okay?" With that, Sam left the room.

Castiel handed Dean a glass of water and said, "Do you remember anything else?"

"Just…" Dean couldn't wrap his mind around what he saw. Not now. Everything was a blur of colors and tastes and sensations that didn't make sense. His brow furrowed, and he asked, "Were you there?"

"Yes," Cas answered. "I found you and carried you back."

Dean nodded and said, "I remember you. But… You looked different."

"Good different, I hope," Cas said with a shy smile.

Dean reached for him, and Cas leaned in to meet his lips. It was a shaky kiss, and Dean realized he was the one who was shaking. His whole body trembled, and he gripped Cas's shoulders to try and steady himself. Cas wrapped his arms around him, and said, "You need to be more careful, Dean."

"Yeah," was all he could say.

Dean closed his eyes, sinking into Castiel's embrace. And for a moment, he could almost see the massive creature and feel the comfort and safety he felt cupped in the hands of the angel's true form. He could almost smell the warm cinnamon and taste the flavor of honey on his tongue.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean whispered against the angel's neck.

The angel only smiled and held him tighter.